Turlough Carolan

A note before we begin: this is not meant to be a definitive biography of Carolan. That work has already been done by Donal O’Sullivan, whose 1958 book, “Carolan: The Life, Times and Music of an Irish Harper” is widely acknowledged to be the definitive work to date on the harper. I have drawn heavily on O’Sullivan’s book in my attempt to understand something of Carolan’s life and work, and I would direct other interested parties to it. I give here a very abridged overview of Carolan’s history merely as an introduction and to provide context for my discussion of his compositions within the larger world of Irish music.

Also, some explanation is probably necessary on the different spellings of Carolan's name, which would have been Toirdhealbhach Ó Cearbhalláin in Irish, and in English Turlough (or Terence) Carolan or O’Carolan. The English version of the surname is usually given today as "O'Carolan," but according to Donal O'Sullivan, Carolan himself omitted the O when he used his surname singly, spelling it Cearbhallán, thus giving us an English spelling of Carolan, which Sullivan seems to have preferred when using the surname alone.

In any case, Turlough Carolan (1670-1738) is perhaps Ireland’s most famous composer, and while not a direct descendent of the bardic harping tradition (which had for all intents and purposes died out by Carolan’s time), is certainly heir to the larger tradition of harping in Ireland. It is also from him that we have the most extant written music from that period of Ireland’s history. There may be others who composed during this time, but none is as widely recognized or played.

Carolan was born in or near Nobber, Co. Meath. When he was in his teens, his father was in the employ of the MacDermott Roe family, and when Carolan himself was blinded by smallpox at about the age of eighteen, his plight came to the attention of Mrs. MacDermott Roe. She had already taken a liking to the boy, and paid for his apprenticeship to a local harper. When Carolan turned 21, she bought him a horse, paid for a guide (and presumably for a harp, although I have not found a mention of this), and set him on the path that would sustain him throughout his life. It is in no small part due to her support then that he began a lifetime of music-making.

Carolan lived much of his life as an itinerant musician, traveling from place to place, playing and composing music for well-to-do landowners. In the Ireland of his day, many of these would have been of English descent, and there already existed a strong system that favored English Protestants over the largely Catholic majority in innumerable ways. In O’Sullivan’s words, “There emerged an Irish Catholic nation, unified to a large extent by the oppression of their common religion… the Irish were denied most of the elementary rights of citizenship, and a great part of their land had been filched from them by strangers.” It would seem however that Carolan also worked for a smaller group of Irish gentry who had retained (often lesser and deminishing) titles and land, and though fewer in number they were no less important to his music. O’Sullivan tells us, “Carolan was not an innovator in making songs both for the old Irish and for the English in Ireland.” He goes on to give a comprehensive account of the myriad ways in which the Irish were disenfranchised, not least by the penal laws that began to be enacted in 1695, which systematically stripped Catholic Ireland of the right to land ownership, representation in parliament, education, and practice of religion. Anyone looking to understand the history of the struggle for Irish independence would do well to begin here.

Regardless of religion or national origin, Carolan’s patrons already had a long established tradition of supporting poets and harpers, although as O’Sullivan notes, the bardic schools were gone by this time, and the and harpers were writing verse that was linked to the metres of the popular dance music of the day, rather than to the older and more complex verse structures used before Carolan’s time. These compositions were often made in celebration of births, weddings, and the like, and O’Sullivan’s description of the general climate in which the harpers existed gives us some idea of their situation: “So far as the gentry were concerned, the harp was the principal musical instrument. The harpers were a numerous class, and they were entertained as guests at the Big Houses, playing their repertoire of Irish airs and occasionally taking pupils. They were much in request on special occasions such as weddings and funerals, and received in return that lavish hospitality for which Ireland has always been famous.”

Let's now fast-forward a bit to the interpretation of Carolan's music today. His body of work is something of an enigma, and in researching his life, I am still at a bit of a loss to understand or explain his unique place in this tradition. It might be tempting to say that the popularity of his music is due in part to sheer volume. O’Sullivan makes reference to “… the striking contrast between the fate of Carolan’s music and that of his predecessors and contemporaries. Whereas scores of his tunes have survived (including the appropriate words for a great many of them), the sum total of all the others combined is only about thirty, and some of these are of dubious authenticity.”But I think this is too easy. Maybe I am caught up in Carolan’s mystique, but I think there really is something about his music that is especially compelling. It is, in the words of Nicky McAuliffe, “… like it was already there.” (More on that later.) At the end of the day, these are catchy tunes. This is music that grabs the ear. These are pieces that you wake up humming the next day. And that I think, is the real reason for Carolan’s visibility in Irish music today.

Then too, there is something distinctly Gaelic about it. It doesn’t sound like the traditional music of our time and it still bears the unmistakable stamp of Europe and orchestral classical music, but also feels unmistakably Irish. No other composer’s work of that period is regularly played in the current repertoire of Irish music, but Carolan's tunes are frequent features of concert repertoire and sessions. I would go so far as to say that Carolan is the only “composer” (in the classical sense) whose music is even nominally considered a part of the Irish tradition. Growing up, I thought of him as a vaguely mythic figure: the blind harper who wandered the roads of Ireland, and whose music was an instantly recognizable part of the musical landscape. Carolan’s name is mentioned often enough that it never occurred to me to wonder about him until much later. He simply was. Whether this prevalence of his music is representative of Ireland as well, or a product of the unique situation of the 1970s and ‘80s folk revival in the United States is an open question that I may examine at a later time.

One of the things I find interesting about Carolan is how varied the current interpretation of his music is today. Some players have a much more baroque way of playing these pieces, while others have a less ornamented, more “trad” sound. Two examples of a piece called Our Fairy Queen highlight this contrast. The first, from flute player Chris Norman, showcases a virtuosic and highly ornate style. The second version comes from fiddler Michelle O’Brien, and gives us a simpler treatment in which the melody takes center stage and the style is less obviously baroque in feel. Between these two worlds lie some interesting artistic waters. As players navigate the aesthetic parameters that delineate traditional music, they make conscious or unconscious choices about where to position themselves. What style you put on the music can determine what community you are aligning yourself with, and those choices have real professional and artistic consequences.

In working on this project and learning more about Carolan’s music, I have developed an even greater respect for his work. It is truly beautiful music, and well worth considering in reference to the question of Irish music composition. My dad jokingly calls the part of the artist game where one hopes to be remembered after one's death “Beat the Reaper.” The idea is that an artist creates in part to cheat death by making something that outlives themselves. If this is indeed part of the game for musicians, artists, and other “makers,” Carolan has done well. Nearly three hundred years after his death, many still play his music and celebrate his life, and deservedly so. His music is beautiful and unique, and as important today as ever.